


Remedy

by amaradangeli



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22338649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli
Summary: Okay so this isn't done. And I started it something like 2 years ago, so no promises about what happens to/with it next. But I was talking about it with some people and so here it is... And I haven't ever posted anything in tiny choppy little scenes like this before, but I figured this was the best way to present what was already written and probably I wouldn't feel pressured to write more than a little at a time if I can finish it. So here we go!Of note: this fic is unrated right now, as of the posting of the 7th chapter. Because... I don't know how this is going to shake out. I'll try to remember to go back and rate it appropriately later. But, because this is me, a E rating is possible (just not guaranteed).If you're reading this for the first time after it's marked complete, you might want to just select to view all chapters. Chapters are not what this has... we're basically talking about scene breaks with this one.
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 124
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this isn't done. And I started it something like 2 years ago, so no promises about what happens to/with it next. But I was talking about it with some people and so here it is... And I haven't ever posted anything in tiny choppy little scenes like this before, but I figured this was the best way to present what was already written and probably I wouldn't feel pressured to write more than a little at a time if I can finish it. So here we go!
> 
> Of note: this fic is unrated right now, as of the posting of the 7th chapter. Because... I don't know how this is going to shake out. I'll try to remember to go back and rate it appropriately later. But, because this is me, a E rating is possible (just not guaranteed).
> 
> If you're reading this for the first time after it's marked complete, you might want to just select to view all chapters. Chapters are not what this has... we're basically talking about scene breaks with this one.

The stargate was on an island. A small island. As near as Sam could figure, the planet had some kind of environmental or meteorological event that covered a great deal of the landmass with water. Because there was no way this particular configuration would have done anyone any good. 

She was still not entirely sure what happened to the gate. Teal’c had stepped through. Then Daniel. And before she knew it, the event horizon was collapsing on itself and she and the colonel had been left behind. She attempted to redial, but the DHD wasn’t working. 

She’d taken it apart but she couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it. And in the two days they’d been stranded, the SGC hadn’t redialed the planet. Something was really very wrong. 

They had enough food to last maybe three more days. Water wasn’t a problem, but eventually purifying it would be. They had a tent and a couple of sleeping bags, a change of clothes each, and a first aid kit they’d already broken into because immediately upon arrival, Daniel had tripped and cut his hand on a piece of jagged rock. 

Sam sat down next to the colonel on the rock he’d perched on an hour before, watching while she futzed with the DHD yet again. “I don’t know what to do, sir.” 

He picked at the bit of vegetation in his hands. “I figured as much.” 

“Now what?” 

He dropped the green thing, slapped his hands down on his thighs, and stood up. “Now, we set up camp and wait to be rescued.” 

“Rescued?” 

“They’ll come for us eventually. Either they’ll be able to dial or they’ll get the Tok’ra or the Asgard to swing by.” 

“I hope you’re right, sir.” 

“When have I ever been wrong?” 

She thought the question was ironic, more than anything else, but she smiled anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a week and a half before they found the leafy green that seemed to make them high. The feeling was akin to what she imagined ecstasy must feel like. She’d never been so aware of her body. Every brush of her hand against her skin felt like the most erotic touch she’d ever received. She could feel her heart pounding between her legs. 

The colonel appeared to be feeling the effects too, if the way he kept stroking his forearms was any indication. She studiously avoided looking at his fly. For a while. And then, she did look. And she could tell that he was probably well aware of his heartbeat in his nether-regions as well. 

She was itching to touch herself. She could beg off to the latrine, but that would only buy her so much time before he might come looking for her. The island was small, but it was big enough that she might be able to get lost in the wooded area. If she tried hard enough. Actually, there was very little chance that he’d come looking for her unless she was gone for hours, but she wasn’t sure it was worth the risk. Breaking in the middle of a mission to masturbate was definitely outside of protocol. So what if the mission had been indiscriminately and indefinitely extended? 

She looked around to discover that the colonel was missing. Well, probably not missing, but definitely not where she’d left him. It would be so easy to just stick her hand down her pants and— 

The colonel reappeared out of the brush, buttoning the top button of his BDU trousers. 

Well, so much for that idea. 


	3. Chapter 3

It would have been nice if they could have avoided it, but they had to keep eating the ecstasy plant. More than a month into their stay on the island, it was one of the very few green things they’d found that didn’t make them sick. They couldn’t subsist on the fish-like creature that populated the water. It was dumb enough that it was easy to catch, but a diet of pure protein wasn’t good for anybody. So they continued to eat the plant. 

The effect never diminished. If anything, her body gave into the feelings much more readily now than it had at first. At first she’d tried to deny the feelings she had, but after several weeks, she began to look forward to it. It was difficult to feel that way with the colonel so close, though. She’d been attracted to him for so long. Since the beginning, really. And there were times she felt like he was attracted to her too. Outside of the default setting of his flirting, even. 

Both of them being hopped up on the druggy weed, though, made it especially difficult to reign in her thoughts and feelings, especially when she thought he might be amenable to mutually satisfying the urges they were feeling. Not that they’d ever talked about it. 

They talked about going home, though, and she thought that one had a lot to do with the other. 

He was adamant. “They’re coming, Carter.” 

“But—” 

“We just have to hold on a little longer.” 

He sounded like he was barely holding onto his sanity. 

She looked down at the handful of greenery she was holding and then surreptitiously looked over at him. He was looking at her. They both quickly looked away. In the periphery, she saw him shove a leaf into his mouth so she did the same. 


	4. Chapter 4

At the six week mark she was trying desperately to manufacture reasons to be alone for prolonged periods of time. In truth, it would have taken her only minutes to find some relief but she wanted to take her time with it. Damn it, she wanted the time she wanted. 

But he either knew why she was asking or he was completely oblivious because he was either always around or had something for her to do. Why he’d be so obstinate about this particular issue she didn’t know. What was so wrong with giving her a little time to herself? 

Then, he accidentally – or thoughtlessly – touched her. Just his hand on the curve of her waist, but it was enough to send a shudder racking through her body. She hadn’t even eaten the damn plant for two days. She turned toward him, his hand slipping around to the small of her back before falling away. 

She looked into his eyes, at his mouth, his eyes, his mouth. 

“Just a little longer,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Give them more time.” 

She shot him a narrow glance and then stalked off to find something to eat for dinner. 

The only edible thing that was abundant on the island was the leafy green. When she returned, she shoved a handful at him and defiantly stuffed a couple leaves into her mouth. After she finished her dinner she crawled into the tent they shared, undressed to her worn-out t-shirt and underwear, and shimmied into her sleeping bag. 

She didn’t even try to stay awake long enough to hear him come in. If he was so dead set on nothing happening between them, then he didn’t even have to talk to her. 


	5. Chapter 5

As they passed the two-month mark, he started slipping. He touched her all the time. Innocent touches, but touches nonetheless. She was almost positive he didn't realize he was doing it. He'd touch her shoulder when sitting down next to her, stand close enough their arms brushed when they were looking at something in the distance, touch her waist to get her attention. 

It was driving her crazy. 

Finally, she snapped at him, "You've got to stop that." 

"Stop what?" His hand was still on her. 

"Touching me," she shrugged him off. 

He frowned slightly as if just realizing he actually was touching her. He lifted his hand off her slowly. "Sorry," he said, a distracted tone to his voice. He turned away from her and she could tell he was thinking. "Have I... have I been doing that a lot?" 

She sighed. "Yes." 

"Hmm." He nodded. He turned back to her. "It's been two months." 

"It has." 

He didn't say anything else. He just gave her a searing look then went off to catch dinner. She went to bathe. When she sat down that night, next to the fish was a pile of the ecstasy weed. A big pile. She looked at him crossways, but he was studiously ignoring her. 

In the tent that night, they were both restless. It had been a deliberate decision on his part. A conscious decision on hers to go along with it. They were both farther gone on the drug than they'd ever been before. 

It seemed not only natural but completely necessary to touch herself. At first it was just trailing her fingertips up and down her arm. And then it was surreptitiously dragging the insides of her wrists over her straining nipples. They were, after all, sharing a tent. She might be high on a pleasure plant, but she still knew better than to cross sexual lines with her commanding officer. Even if she did actually dream of his hands on her. Even if they were both hanging onto propriety – and the regulations – by a thread. 

The touching over her clothes, over the top half of her was fine, if not satisfying. She was studiously staring up at the top of the tent. The moonlight on this planet was bright and illuminated the space, if dimly, inside the tent enough that they could see each other. Not well, but enough. So, she didn't look towards him. She knew her sanity couldn't take it if he was touching his body in the soft, mildly-relieving way she was touching hers. 

Soon, though, it wasn't enough. The movements of her wrists over her nipples wasn't the right kind of stimulation and without truly thinking it through she cupped her hands over her breasts and squeezed. The needy sigh that escaped her lips was unplanned and would have been embarrassing had she not been drugged to the hilt. 

From right beside her there was a telling rustling, then his fingers—hot—gliding over her wrist, the soft skin of the back of her hand, the cotton covered slope of her breast. She gasped, relieved, “ _Sir_.” 

The change was bucket-of-ice-water abrupt. 

He cursed, jerked, broke the delicate connection, and hurled himself out of the tent. 


	6. Chapter 6

At first, she gave him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps it was too much stimulation too quickly. Maybe his mind had gotten the better of him. But the longer she lay there alone, the more she realized it didn’t add up. 

She didn’t know what had happened, but she knew whatever it was, he’d abandoned her to the feelings still coursing through her own body. And whether what had happened to him was pleasurable or not, she couldn’t stand by his decision. 

She found him not far from the tent, sitting on the low bench next to their fire pit. She didn’t sit next to him. She stood over him, glaring. She didn’t even have to ask. He looked up at her and she quirked an eyebrow—the kind she’d never quirked at a commanding officer but had, once or twice, at a boyfriend. 

It only took a moment and he figured out exactly what she thought. He gave a genuinely wry grin for the first time in weeks. “Carter,” he said, “you’re condemning my body for the sins of a younger man’s.” 

She wasn't ready to let him off the hook just yet, so she hitched her hip, just a little, and intensified her incredulous look. 

The wry grin slid off his face and his entire demeanor shifted towards contrite. “Look, we do...” he gestured behind him, at the tent, towards what had almost happened, “and that’s it. I don’t move past it. Do you?” 

She didn’t want to, but she understood. He made a valiant point. One she’d have likely brought up herself if her frontal lobe hadn’t been running on jet fuel. His control was impressive. And infuriating. And it knocked the wind right out of her sails. At that point, the space beside him looked too inviting to refuse. She kept just enough space between them that she didn’t have to feel the tickle of his arm hair against her skin. 

While the anger and irritation came quickly, the decision to be amused rather than sad was a conscious, difficult, and mostly faked choice. For him, though, she would soldier on. “You know, if you’d have just given me some time alone sometime in the last few weeks, we probably wouldn’t have gotten to this point.” 

Jack O’Neill was smooth. Usually. But not in that moment. He whipped his head towards her so fast she heard his neck pop. His look was wide, open, and hungry. For about three heartbeats. Then, the shift in him, when he decided to go on the offensive, was apparent. “Exactly how long did you need?” The implication, clearly, that had she been properly motivated, she could have cleared the issue up without special consideration. But that _smooth_ affectation felt like a finger through her folds. 

But Sam Carter, much to more than one man’s delight, was no shrinking violet. 

“Right now? Less than sixty seconds.” 

“Well,” he settled back and crossed his ankles, shooting for—but not quite making—completely relaxed, “carry on, Major.” 

She didn’t wait twice for clearance. Since he knew her mission, there was no need to hesitate. She’d like to think she sauntered off to a more private section of the island, but she’s positive it came across as a sprint. 


	7. Chapter 7

It went on like that for weeks. She’d excuse herself, no need for true discretion but the spirit was maintained anyway, and return to his general proximity pinker but decidedly more relaxed. He sauntered _everywhere,_ leaving her with the impression he felt pride, satisfaction, or an irritation-inducing mix of both. Yes, life was definitely easier before her commanding officer knew she needed to escape his presence at least once a day to masturbate. She wondered, if they ever got home, how she’d explain her sudden case of carpal tunnel to Janet. 

She knew it wasn’t deliberate, the day he caught her with her hand down her pants. She hadn’t left their campsite with her game-face on. They’d decided to mount another search for anything edible... anything that wasn’t the dumb fish or the horny weed. She’d eaten no more of the plant than usual—not to mention less than she had the night they nearly irrevocably changed things between them—so she was a little surprised to find herself shifted sideways by the not-all-that-uncommon sight of her bare-chested commander... six hours earlier. 

She’d long since stopped second-guessing the manufactured urges, though. And when her body dictated, she reached—immediately—for release. She just hadn’t counted on stumbling across the finish line after having locked eyes with the colonel. At least, not outside the confines of her fantasies. She schooled as much of her reaction as possible: she made her body rigid, swallowed her sigh of relief, held her hips achingly still, and focused the intensity of her orgasm down to a vice grip that tugged at her slick fingertips. She didn't know where she found the fortitude. 

While there was no way he didn’t know she’d come right there in front of him, she comforted herself with the knowledge that she hadn’t lost complete control. That didn’t mean she wasn’t embarrassed. And she was grateful when he checked his natural urge to tease her and simply disappeared until dinner that night. 

Of course, that was the night they found out how to counteract the effects of the lust-inducing leaves.


	8. Chapter 8

They’d agreed to alternate their consumption of the problem with the consumption of the solution. And then they’d agreed to not eat the problem at the same time. All that agreeing left Sam pretty pissed at the colonel. The resistance to her admittedly ill-advised advances since the beginning had been bad enough, but the timing of the discovery and solution implementation were conspicuously timed.

While edible, the antidote plant didn’t taste good, so she ate it with relish. Even when it started making her gag. There wasn’t anything wrong with it, and it certainly wasn’t poisoning her, but the aftertaste got her every time. 

She found it was more and more difficult to express her anger as a subordinate and quite a bit simpler to express it as a woman. She mentally cited an argument they had about where he left his collection of sweaty clothing in their shared tent that was nothing at all to do about where, exactly, he stored his laundry and much, much more about how the scent of that dirty laundry made her head fuzzy with want.

She called him on all his behavior, except the behavior she most wanted him to stop. She desperately needed him to stop looking at her with dark, hooded, promising eyes. Because clearly, he and his eyes were on different pages when it came to promises.

It took him three weeks and one day to decide that watching her choke down the foul-tasting vegetation bordered on a violation of the Geneva Convention. She was pretty irritated it took that long, really. Jack O’Neill wasn’t known for his strict adherence to regulation. 

“You gonna be okay?”

She didn’t dare unclench her jaw but she thought her glare was pretty unambiguous.

He cast her a side-long glance, poked at the embers at the edge of the fire with the long, rigid  petiole of a palm frond, and wisely forewent any further questions on the subject.

“I’m not... I’m trying to do the right thing here, you know?” The weariness of his entire person made her feel almost bad for being mad that he wouldn’t just succumb already. She tried to swallow the threat of bile while her body attempted to reject the newest addition to their diet.

“You don’t make it easy, Carter.” The desire that dripped from his voice made the last many weeks almost worth it.

“So?” She managed the word without unclenching her teeth.

“We’re not  gonna eat this crap anymore.” 

Her body’s reaction to the decidedly un-sexy declaration was immediate and jarring. “Great. I’m going to go throw up now.”

She was gone before the tiny smile around his mouth developed into a full-fledged grin.


	9. Chapter 9

His break from rank and file was more opportunistic, less premeditated, and much filthier than she ever anticipated. It was also hotter than her brain or body could process. 

He was mad. She was scared. And she was on her knees, yanking at his pants checking for blood—or at least the evidence of his near miss—before she could even process how wildly inappropriate her position and actions were. In her haste to get at his skin, she’d pushed his underwear down with his uniform pants and his skin was tan and soft and right under her fingertips. His hand was buried in her hair only a millisecond before she registered that he was fine. The heavy, musky scent of him ten hours into their day was doing things for her general state of readiness that she didn’t know was possible. He’d barely pulled her toward him when she realized he was completely, _impressively_ erect. And then he was in her mouth, like they’d choreographed it. 

The speed and intensity of his full-throated arousal in the wake of potential injury told her something she hadn’t known before: however far gone she had been, he’d been just as bad. She was sorry, for a moment, for pushing him; but then he throbbed in her mouth, wept salty and bitter on the flat of her tongue, and her body retaliated against the onslaught of stimulation with a jolt of pleasure so strong she wondered for a moment if she’d orgasmed, just the smell of him deep in her nose and the taste of him strong inside her mouth. But the intense pleasure passed so fast and left a gaping, gnawing need behind. 

His unapologetic enjoyment of the way she enthusiastically sucked his cock was just as arousing to her as if their roles had been reversed. He was equal parts polite and vulgar. He didn’t shy away from the opportunity to teach her what he liked. He was vocal in a way she didn’t anticipate; even as he shied away from using words with her, he was very clear. His hands were active in her hair, making tracks against her scalp, tugging fistfuls of strands, cupping the base of her skull and pulling her into him so he could press his hips as close into her as possible. 

She gauged the level of his excitement – the impending pinnacle of his inevitable climax – by the amount of slick, salty liquid he produced. It was copious and bordered on perverse. Her reaction to _his reactions_ said she was going to have to reassess her own list of kinks – she'd clearly underestimated herself. And she realized, by the state of her own underwear alone, that she’d never be able to throw stones in the arousal-response department. 

She briefly detoured to tongue the silky skin at the base of his cock where his natural scent and salty flavor were strongest, barely resisted the urge to bite at him, to feel his skin and the flinch of his musculature between her teeth. He liked the way she dragged her lips against his groin if the way his hands tightened in her hair but didn’t immediately direct her mouth back to the sensitive head of his erection was any indication. 

She went back to the taut, silken skin before he forced the issue and audible exhale of relief was telling. Her hands slid up the front of his thighs, the hair thin and coarse, and his skin so hot—a singular sensation against the sensitive skin of her palms. 

Words, finally, were ripped from his throat, audibly forcing their way past the clench of his jaw, “Christ, Carter.” If he weren’t so far gone, she was sure he’d have warned her of impending ejaculation. As it was, he was barely holding himself together. Wrapping her hands around his legs, she sunk her fingernails into his hamstrings as he emptied himself into her mouth with a guttural sound that she could feel inside her, like his fingers curling against her most responsive parts. 


	10. Chapter 10

Later, the way his hand ran in a smooth, deliberate motion down her spine felt like part apology and part restitution. His fingers found each bump and valley of vertebrae with such aching attention to detail that it was like his fingers were playing her nipples and clit instead of the slightly sweaty and sand-gritty skin she’d bared to him in the firelight. 

“I think it bit you three times. Or maybe three somethings bit you once. You okay?” 

Her tongue was thick in her mouth so she nodded, the feelings he created while touching her so much more prominent in her thought process than answer to his question. She pressed backwards into him, his body moving instinctively to cradle hers between his thighs, until her naked back was pressed against his chest and her ass was snugged up against a cock that was too hard for him to not have been thinking about this with at least a little while he checked her over for potentially deadly insect bites. 

She tipped her head back against his shoulder. His breath was hot and damp against her jaw as his fingers traced perimeter of her belly button. His touch was so slow and she couldn’t guess if he was going to next go up or down but the time between him coming in her mouth and this moment had been filled with such purposeful attempts to keep her on the edge of completion that when he dipped down into the waistband of her trousers she was almost more shocked than relieved that the teasing had finally come to an end. 

The sound he made when his fingers made first contact with the heat and slickness that had been her constant companion all evening was so reminiscent sound of his orgasm that she nearly came from the suggestion alone. It was her own hands on her breasts as he yanked the button free at her fly and shucked her pants down her hips and off her body. The bark of the log they were sitting on dug into her ass and she opened her thighs for him all the way, hooking her calves over his knees. 

With one hand he slid two long fingers inside of her and with the other he used speed and pressure to keep her body surging towards the finish line. It didn’t take long, but it was long enough that she got to feel the almost clairvoyant way he found that extra-sensitive patch of nerves inside her, and when she came it was finally, _finally_ with his tongue in her mouth and his fingers inside her, her muscles so taught and bowed that the stretch was it’s own kind of pleasure. 

Afterwards they shared the sun-warmed pool of water they’d designated for hygiene but it wasn’t the satiated and mellow experience she’d anticipated. Instead, the awareness of what hadn’t yet happened crackled between them in such a way that she knew, even without the protective excuse of the ecstasy weed, that later on it wouldn’t be his fingers inside her. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Broca Divide gif really is something...*

Of course, they fought again before they fucked. But the anger and irritation were more for the show of the thing than actual insult or injury. It was a sparring match, designed to build up the adrenaline inside them while working out the kinks that might temper the coming experience. Most of the fight was about how when they came back to the clearing, a MALP had obviously just passed through the event horizon that they just caught winking out. There was all the standard equipment so it would only be a matter of time before the SGC redialed and she’d be once again tasked with orchestrating their likely untimely rescue. 

It figured, she thought, after the months it took them to really throw caution to the wind, that home came calling. 

The fight was predictably about whether they _did_ or _didn’t_. Jack tried to make a straight-faced argument about how sex would change things. 

She knew exactly how to shut him up. “Didn’t you come in my mouth like three hours ago?” 

“That’s...” he pointed at her, his still-damp bare chest gleaming in the moonlight and last gasps of the campfire. 

“Probably at least as...” the only word she could come up with was _intimate_ but nothing they’d done so far was about intimacy, even if they now had it. She shrugged and, without even trying to bait him, licked her lips. 

He deflated, his pointed finger curling back into his hand, becoming a loose fist to tap against his thigh. “Yeah.” 

“We’ve probably got twelve hours,” she cocked her right hip and left eyebrow at him. “How exactly do you want to spend them?” 

So, they _did_. 

~*~ 

The reality of it was that they had several weeks and a collection of five MALPs before she’d done enough to rescue them. She fed a line of bullshit to the general and bought them one final night alone on the planet to talk about how to handle things when they got home. That was the initial excuse, at least. They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to. Nearly six months on the planet had stripped them of all the walls and excuses they’d spent the previous years erecting. 

After taking their final bath in the designated pool – now with ivory soap and cheap shampoo she’d never take for granted again – they had a long, long night of seeing how slow she could ride him, how many times she could come, clenching around him before he lost control of his pleasure. 

They were both sticky, sweaty, satiated messes when it was over. He took real pleasure in dipping his fingers in then painting the skin of her again-smooth thighs with the proof of pleasure he’d left between her legs. It rained earlier in the day but she couldn’t smell the petrichor though the thick haze of sex and pheromones that had settled amidst the humidity over their small camp. 

In the morning he packaged samples of the ecstasy weed and its antidote for Janet. He joked about taking home a few additional samples as well, but it was half-hearted and a little self-conscious and not at all like the guy who’d made that sound when he’d finally gotten his cock in her mouth. She kissed him hard, pilfered the joke-samples with one hand and reacquainted the fingers of the other with the soft, warm skin of his cock. 

As the last of the MALPs trundled through the open gate, he pinched the fleshy curve where her ass met thigh and shot her a lazy, self-assured wink. “Home?” 

She shot him a grin over her shoulder, her toes had already started the journey home, “Your place or mine?” His slow grin was the last thing she saw before stepped through the event horizon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *if you haven't been on twitter with us tonight, then this probably didn't make much sense...
> 
> Anyway, that's it. All done. Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
